


It's inevitable

by OhGoshOhJeez



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, PTSD, it's just about them living with what happened, me? projecting onto characters?, yes fuck you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGoshOhJeez/pseuds/OhGoshOhJeez
Summary: Emma doesn’t feel brave. She feels lucky.





	It's inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I love this fuckin musical. Paul is definitely alive, fuck you.

She couldn’t believe it.

She thought that Paul died in the blast, she hadn’t seen him for months after the alien’s attacked Hatchetfield, and now here he was, standing in front of her.

“Paul!” Emma said, and ran to him, he opened his arms and pulled her into an embrace.

She had been so lost after Paul left, not knowing what to do, only wanting to get as far away from Hatchetfield as she possibly could. But now he was back, he was here with her, holding her in his arms.

“Emma...I’m sorry. You lost.” His grip on her tightened.

He was...Singing?

Emma felt a wave of dread wash over her.

“...Paul?”

“Emma, I’m sorry, you lost your way.” He continued, and she struggled out of his grip.

Soon, he was joined by the aliens she thought had died in the theatre.

They were singing, looking at her with glazed over, too-blue eyes. They surrounded her, reaching out. A wide smile split Paul’s face, not gentle and kind as she knew, he looked like a predator sizing up his pray.

She wasn’t on the street anymore, she was on a set, and she could see rows upon rows of an audience, smiling and clapping as the aliens closed in on her. Spotlights shone in her eyes as she dropped to the ground.

“The apotheosis is upon us.”  


Emma woke up, gasping and shooting up in bed. Her chest was tight, and her heart pounded in her ears. She was sweating, but felt icy cold.

“Emma..?” Paul said, and she flinched, and let out a yelp, which made Paul sit up.

“Hey, hey, Emma, it’s okay. It’s me.” She could hear the concern in his voice. He was talking to her like she was a scared animal. He reached out and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

She took a steadying breath, and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine... I just-...I had the dream again.”

She felt his hand twitch.

“Oh.”

“I just can’t...” She felt tears well up in her eyes and she willed them away. “I can’t stop seeing you like that. Imagining what would have happened if you-..” Her voice broke, and she sobbed.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re safe.” She felt his arms wrap around her, and she relaxed slightly, finding comfort in the warmth of his hug.

Slowly, they laid down again, Emma’s head resting on Paul’s chest.

She reached out and held his hand, listening to the soft sound of his breathing.

“Promise me you’ll never sing to me, ever.”

He chuckled, then sighed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

\----

Emma considered herself a pretty fucking strong person, all things considered.

I mean, she survived an attack from another world, with barely a scrape, and didn’t give in to her alien oppressors. She also had a good job, and an amazing boyfriend, and didn’t take any shit from anyone.

She would never admit that she has to drive with the radio on mute. She wouldn’t admit the way the smell of fresh coffee makes her stomach churn, or how she is disgusted with the colour blue.

She wouldn’t admit that sometimes, when she hears her boyfriend humming to himself, she freezes and has to stop herself from hyperventilating, or that sometimes she has to call in sick for work because she can’t bring herself to walk out the door and face the world without the fear of it coming crashing down again.

She can’t bear to look at the scar on her leg. She wears trousers, never shorts, never skirts.

It’s an ugly part of her that she’d rather leave in the past.

Sometimes she hears people talking about her at work.

“Isn’t that one of the HatchetField survivors?”

“My gosh, she’s so brave.”

Emma doesn’t feel brave. She feels lucky.   


\--------------

 

Paul unlocks the door to his house, wiping his feet on the welcome mat that kindly says “Go away” (Emma’s purchase, of course).

“Emma, I’m back.” He says, shutting the door behind him and hanging his jacket up.

“They didn’t have any eggs, but I got bacon anyway in case you still wanted it.”

He makes his way over to the living room.

“I think that grocery guy was flirting with me. He was kinda forward, I think he was a second away from giving me his phone number. Don’t worry, though, I’d never-”

The TV was on, and he froze as he heard a happy chorus being sung on screen.

He recognised it, it was from a musical he’d seen years ago. They were singing and dancing, and why was he sweating, why was he-

He dropped the bag of groceries, and didn’t even hear them clatter to the floor. He was too far gone.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, they were back, they were here, how were they here?!

He clasped a hand over his mouth. They were going to make him one of them, and then they were going to do the same with Emma. He was frozen.

“Please-” He whimpered.

He was shaking.

He felt hands on his shoulders.

“No!-”

“Paul! Paul, it’s me!”

He turned, and it took a while before his eyes registered what he saw.

It was Emma, looking up at him. She looked worried.

He heard the singing again. He put his hands on Emma’s shoulders, trying to guide her out of the room.

“Emma, they’re here, we have to-!”

“Paul, they’re not here, it’s okay, we’re safe.”

“...What?”

Emma turned her head towards the singing, and sighed. She picked up the remote control from the coffee table and turned the TV off.

“It’s okay, Paul, you just heard singing on the television. They’re not here, they’re gone.”

Paul took a deep breath, and fiddled with his hands, nervously.

“I thought...I was so scared that they were back.”

“I know, it’s okay.” She took his hands in her own. “We’re okay.”

Paul looked at her, with tears in his eyes, and nodded, before pulling her into a tight hug.

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Paul. God, do you have any idea how scared those fucking musicals make me? It’s horrible. But we’ll...We’ll get through it.”

“Yeah. We will.”

“Annie is fucking horrible anyway.”

“It’s the worst, right?!”

“The _worst_.”

  
  



End file.
